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Free To Be Average

3 Sep


In years past, I considered myself an intellectual. That’s why I originally ‘loved’ the sciences, and eventually studied philosophy. And it is one of the reasons why I enjoy discussing controversial issues, be they political or theological. In fact, I remember well one instance as a teenager where I infuriated my best friend to the point of temporarily rupturing our relationship. I knew he was right about the issue at hand, but I wanted to assert my intellectual dominance. I ended up looking smarter than my friend, yet I sacrificed our friendship for it. We soon carried on as before, but when finally separated by the years and miles of university life, I learned that he despised me and felt that he had lived much of that time in my shadow and under my thumb.

However, I am increasingly aware of my limitations. For reasons which I don’t understand, and much to my chagrin, God did not gift me with anything more than an average intelligence. And this fact has become increasingly clear in recent years. The effect of this realization has been fairly devastating. I’m a bit reticent to speak about things which I know nothing about, and I find it difficult to speak with real authority on any subject. Not being exceptional of mind can be paralyzing. Here are a few reasons why:

1) I’m lazy. Almost everything in life has come to me fairly easily, but I’ve never achieved greatness in anything. I was a gifted athlete, but not exceptionally so. I’m a good guitar player, but not great. I can think and write better than most (or I could in the past, at least), but not well enough for any sort of recognition. Often, I say that I am good at everything, yet great at nothing. But my mediocrity does have a root–laziness. I have never worked hard enough at any of these things to reach my full potential. Discipline does not come easily for me.

2) I have an appearance idol. This idol stems from my childhood. I learned early on from my parents that what is important in life is being entertained and making sure people think you are a good person. So, when I argued with my friend, I was more concerned with looking intelligent than actually being intelligent. Arguing, if done well, gives the appearance of intelligence. And I love looking smart.  Speaking in a certain tone, or asking certain questions, or using a particularly academic vocabulary can easily mask my ignorance and hide the fact that I don’t really know what I’m talking about.

3) I have nothing new to offer the world. Anything I can add to a discussion I have borrowed from someone else. So, why just repeat what others have already said? Even this blog post is probably patched together from my conversations with people and books. And, since I am increasingly conscious of my weakness, I assume that all those other voices have already spoken more clearly than I ever could. That being the case, why should my voice be added to the existing cacophony?

4) In general, I will look and feel better if I make no attempt at positing answers to life’s hard questionsThis last one is really a synthesis of the others, or at least it is the inevitable product of the previous three reasons. Each of the previous points build on one another. Why bother putting in the hard work of understanding difficult issues if you can just look like you understand them? And why bother finding new and interesting ways to describe things, even if it might help others better understand an issue, if you can point them to books that they will never read? After all, you will look smart and will avoid taxing your mind. Sounds good to me.

Earlier this year I ran across these verses in Ecclesiastes:

I said in my heart, ‘I have acquired great wisdom, surpassing all who were over Jerusalem before me, and my heart has had great experience of wisdom and knowledge.’ And I applied my heart to know wisdom and to know madness and folly. I perceived that this also is but a striving after wind. 

       For in much wisdom is much vexation, 

       and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow.“—Ecclesiastes 1.16-18

Acquiring great amounts of knowledge, or even practical wisdom, will not guarantee a perfect and manageable life. In fact, the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know or understand about life. That is what really scares me, that no matter how much I will ever learn, it will never be enough to fully grasp all that comprises our tiny, insignificant lives (at least, when compared to all of history, the entire universe, etc.!). But, I think what the Preacher is getting at in Ecclesiastes is just that—we will never really know or understand the universe, but we can know The One who does.

At first glance, these verses seem to sap us of all ambition to know anything. That was definitely my initial reaction. But, without going into great detail, there are some amazing benefits to this realization. First, we learn that we are ultimately dependent on God for everything, even in our pursuit of knowledge. Second, many idols are exposed when we acknowledge our I sufficiency before God. My laziness and desire to look good in front of people could have remained hidden were it not for my learning humility in this area. And, thirdly, appropriating this truth in my life allows me to sit back and watch God work. It relieves the pressure of living as my own master, in evangelism and life, and lets me see my existence as a part in His plan. Nothing I do can thwart His designs, and it is He who has created me as a normal human being in order that His strength and sufficiency would be displayed in my life.

So, I am free to be normal, free to be me.


Deconstruction Dan

25 Apr

My friend Dan the artist told me about a book he’s been listening to about idols of the heart. The author said that the idols he was talking about always came back to the concept of debt. Somebody owes somebody something. Then he dropped a bomb on me. I’ve been screwed up ever since. Maybe I should call him Deconstruction Dan. Or, Dan the prophet.

Jealousy is telling God that He owes you something.

Unsatisfied with what you have, you complain that He hasn’t given you what you actually need. And so you look for what God owes you in the lives of others.

Guilty as charged.

Soon to come, some thoughts on how I’ve been trying to battle jealousy with God’s promises.

Why So Many Songs?

23 Mar

imagesIn general, I’m a very critical person. Thankfully, this quality is being refined in me as I grow in experience and wisdom (hopefully) so as not to reflect so much the more negative aspect of criticism as the constructive. Here I would like to write a bit about my history and thoughts regarding worship. I don’t mean to offer a theology of worship, but just some of the ways in which I have interacted with the subject, and with worship through song in particular.

The friend who first shared the gospel with me in high school, and who faithfully kept sharing with me for years thereafter (thanks, Joey!), shocked me on a visit a few years after my conversion. He said that he didn’t really like Christian music. Ok, there I agree with him. I don’t really like mainstream “Christian” music either, and for the same reasons he gave me. The quality of the songwriting is poor, as well as the production. But that wasn’t what shocked me. He proceeded to tell me that he didn’t even like singing in church, and that he arrived late, on purpose, in order to miss the “worship time.” I’m pretty sure we argued a bit after that.

Fast forward almost ten years to my time in France. I was watching a conversation on the subject of worship between Mike Cosper, Chip Stam, and Harold Best. At one point in the conversation, Harold Best said something along the lines of, “a mature Christian should be easily edified by worship songs.” I strongly disagreed. For many of the same reasons that my friend didn’t like “Christian” music, I didn’t like much contemporary worship music. The lyrics were shallow, formulaic, and I felt that they often aimed to bring the singer to an emotional experience rather than to a confrontation with a Holy God. They focused on the worshipper’s perspective and what the worshipper could offer to God, instead of focusing on what the all-merciful, gracious, holy, and just Lord of the universe did for us on the cross.

Soon after, I was watching a live-stream of the Passion conference and heard John Piper talk about what I felt was one of the more shallow worship songs that preceded his preaching. But, he didn’t tear it apart, he incorporated its lyrics into his message and made me worship God through it. That’s when I started to understand Harold Best’s statement.

God is so great, magnificent, holy, pure, perfect, etc…that no amount of songs, or no depth of lyric could ever contain or evoke all the worship that he deserves, or adequately reflect His worth.

That is why short songs, long songs, simple songs, deep songs–they all serve a purpose. And that is why we have so many songs and shouldn’t be discouraged or in despair about it. As John Frame points out in one of his books, contemporary songs tend to take one theme and cause the worshipper to meditate on that theme through repetition, whereas hymns are more multi-dimensional. But still, both forms are useful and necessary for proper worship. Why? Because God is far more worthy of worship than our songs describe. They are but attempts to describe the indescribable. We don’t sing because of tradition, or mandate, but because we feel compelled to sing. When I think about what God has done for me in Christ, I must sing. And all the worship songs in the world couldn’t describe all the dimensions of His being and goodness. That’s why we will never grow tired of His presence for all eternity…or of singing to Him about Him.

As one hymn puts it, “A thousand men could not compose a worthy song to bring, yet your love is a melody our hearts can’t help but sing!” 

Hope in the Promise-Keeper

9 Mar

Psalm_89_1-2--Faithfulness_4-3Sojourn’s adaptation of the hymn, Approach My Soul the Mercy Seat, begins with these four lines:

Approach my soul the mercy seat

Where Holy One and helpless meet

There fall before my judge’s feet

Thy promise is my only plea, O God

These words are amazing when you think about it. It is pure Gospel. God is the righteous Judge over all creation, and yet He bids us come into his presence, though we don’t approach Him based on our own merit. When the Holy One and the helpless cross paths, there is only person who is capable of intervening–or interposing (His precious blood, that is)–our Savior and Judge, Jesus Christ. Our salvation and the boldness by which we can approach our maker is based on His promise of reconciliation. If He has said that we may draw near to Him through the blood of Christ, then we can do just that. He is trustworthy. And when we do, His promise is our only plea.

Too many times I have found myself before God trying to convince Him that He got a good deal when He saved me. I like to think of myself as an intelligent and committed member of His following, which should be a welcome addition, right? Unfortunately, my self-appraisal equations don’t seem adequate to bridge the gap between the “Holy One and the helpless.” Something much greater than my inflated sense of goodness needs to be at work. He calls us to abandon all and trust that He has already provided everything we would ever need in order to be in an intimate, soul-laid-bare, kind of relationship with Him.

His promises really are our only plea.

There is much written on this subject in these days of Gospel-Centered everything. These are Christian buzzwords that are thrown around by many who have little to no understanding of what they really mean. Or, at least, that is my fear. But, what I want to do in this post is take a brief look at Psalm 89 and see that trusting in God’s promises is not a New Covenant strategy for fighting doubts of our eternal security. It is, in fact, our only hope of anything in this life, and this strategy has always been essential for God’s people as they dealt with the struggles of life. There are basically three steps in understanding the importance of God’s promises for us today.

  1. We must be reminded of God’s character.
  2. We must be reminded of His promises.
  3. And, we must take care to synthesize the first two truths in our own lives/circumstances/problems.


Reminding Ourselves of God’s Character

In Psalm 89, we see that the author, and God’s people, are not in the best of circumstances (v. 38-48). They are “cast off and rejected” by God (v. 38), and feel abandoned in every way. But that is not how the Psalm starts. The first part (v. 5-18) consists of an account of God’s character, and His faithfulness in particular. The author appeals to God’s character as can be seen through the simple fact that He is God. That is, not because of what He does, but because of who He is. And he appeals to God’s character as seen through His acts, as well. We can see this well in the Psalm’s theme of God’s faithfulness.

He is demonstrated to be faithful because He is God:

For who in the skies can be compared to the Lord? Who among the heavenly beings is like the Lord, God greatly to be feared in the council of the holy ones, and awesome above all who are around him?…Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; steadfast love and faithfulness go before you. (v. 6-7, 14)

And He is demonstrated to be faithful because of His acts:

O Lord God of hosts, who is mighty as you are, O Lord, with your faithfulness all around you? You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them. You crushed Rahab like a carcass; you scattered your enemies with your mighty arm. The heavens are yours; the earth also is yours; the world and all that is in it, you have founded them. The north and the south, you have created them; Tabor and Hermon joyously praise your name. You have a mighty arm; strong is your hand, high your right hand. (v. 8-13)

For now, we are only taking note of the fact that the psalmist takes care to make an appeal to God’s character. We will find out why in a moment.


Reminding Ourselves of God’s Promise

In the first few verses of Psalm 89, the writer introduces the main theme of God’s promise to King David. God is quoted as saying, “I have made a covenant with my chosen one; I have sworn to David my servant: ‘I will establish your offspring forever, and build your throne for all generations'”. (v. 3-4) In so doing, the author is creating a direct link between God’s faithfulness (v. 1-2) and the Davidic Covenant. (v. 19-37) God is a promise keeper, and He made a promise to David. Again, there is nothing profound here, just the fact that the psalmist does indeed mention that God made a promise.

Synthesizing God’s Character and Promise in Our Lives

Here is where the rubber meets the road. It is good to remember that God is righteous and holy and faithful and a host of other important character attributes. It is good to remember that He has made us promises. But it is better to remember that by combining these two ideas, we can have hope in our present difficulties. Reminding ourselves of God’s character is only helpful for us if He has actually chosen to communicate to us in promises. If He has promised us nothing, then it gives us no hope to meditate on His power. In fact, it would probably fill us with terror. Similarly, remembering that He has indeed made promises to us is only meaningful if He is capable of fulfilling those promises. I could promise to give a million dollars to every person who reads this post, but for any of you who know me, that promise is empty since I will never be able to deliver on it.

What is amazing is that this process of remembering and synthesizing knowledge of God’s character and promises is what the Psalmist does in Psalm 89. As seen above, he repeatedly speaks of God’s faithfulness and His promise to David. In the first 37 verses that is all he talks about. But, the reason why comes up in v. 38-45. There was a great inconsistency between God’s character, God’s promise, and the psalmist’s present reality. The people were not experiencing the blessing and fruitfulness that God had promised to David. Actually, what they were living was about as far away from that as could be imagined. And this is attributed to God (notice all of the “you”s in v. 38-45).

But the psalmist needs hope. And, though he acknowledges that it is God’s hand that afflicts them, he reminds himself that God has made them a promise, and that God is faithful to His promises. So, in prayer, he rekindles his hope in God by reminding himself of these truths and applying them to his present suffering. And, once he has done all of this, he ends with “Blessed be the LORD forever! Amen and Amen.” (v. 52)

In our own lives, we need to cultivate this practice every day. Reminding ourselves of these truths will give us the hope we need to press on in service to the Lord in this life, and that in spite of all our hardships. I hope to meditate and write a bit more on how this actually works out in my own life in future posts.

“Who am I?”

28 Jan

After completely embarrassing himself at an awards show in which he was up for a multiple repeat “Male Model of the Year” award, Derek Zoolander looks at himself in a puddle of water and asks the question, “Who am I?” His entire life revolved around his modeling career and his looks, and his loss to the immensely talented Hansel (“he’s so hot right now!) set Derek on a search for his identity. But while we may laugh off the identity crisis that makes up the movie Zoolander, we would be remiss to overlook our own identity crises.

Who am I?

Sadly, none of us is really any different from Derek Zoolander. And it is even more sad that the majority of people ignore the fact that they are constantly appraising their personal value based on what they do. It’s engrained in our nature to long for recognition of some kind, anything to feed our longing to be either known or loved. Surprisingly, this is no less true among Christians. I recently had the privilege of attending the Southern Baptist Convention’s national conference for hispanic churches. It was an encouraging time of teaching and worship with my spanish speaking brothers and sisters in Christ. There was one question, however, that people kept asking me which began to get on my nerves.

“Are you a Pastor, or a helper?”

By itself, it seems innocent enough, right? As more people asked me whether or not I was a Pastor, I started asking myself why it was so important. I found myself wanting to dig deeper into their question through questions of my own. Like, “do you mean, am I the Pastor of a congregation that meets every Sunday?” Or, “are you asking whether or not I shepherd people?” All I did was try to explain to them what exactly I was doing in Laramie, why I was at the conference in San Antonio, and give them at least a hint of what I am all about.

Apparently, that wasn’t enough for many. The empty stares that followed my answers spoke more than ten thousand words ever could. They were looking for a simple yes or no.

It turns out that being a Pastor in that cultural context is very closely linked to authority. So, when someone asked whether or not I was a Pastor, they were really asking, “do I need to speak to you with respect, or can I just talk to you as if we were equals?” This kind of situation is not something I handle well. I’m very egalitarian (not in the sense of men’s and women’s roles in the church) when it comes to this area of Christianity. After an exchange with someone less mature in the faith I often leave encouraged and feeling like they “discipled” me. We are, after all, brothers and sisters and equal in our relationship with God. But at the conference, people were begging to find out where I fit in the spiritual strata.

So, why did the question bother me so much?

There is a great chapter in the book Red Like Blood where a pastor describes how all that we say and do as humans can be explained by an economy of m&m’s. The red ones are given for love, and the green ones for recognition. In everything we do, we are hoping that other people will give us the love and recognition that we long for. That means that every time you see someone driving around in a Mercedes, they aren’t just enthusiasts of German cars, they are really screaming for someone to come dump a truckload of green m&m’s on top of them. This is exactly how it works in hispanic churches, though it is not that they do it on purpose. Many desire to become Pastors not out of a call from the Lord into ministry, but because of a desire for the green m&m’s that come with it. And they are especially looking for God’s green m&m’s.

“Well done, good and faithful servant, you did what I called you to do”, is transformed into, “well done…you did more and better than the rest of those ‘Christians.'”

And this isn’t peculiar to hispanic cultures. We are all plagued by an identity crisis. We answer the question, “Who am I?”, by describing what we do. But the  question is existential, not practical. We long to define ourselves by what we do precisely because we don’t know who we are. I’m not a Pastor in the sense that my inquisitors were seeking. I’m a sinner saved by grace in the same manner as those I minister to. There is real freedom in that truth. No high horse to climb up on. No looking down our nose at others. Just pure, plain and simple grace, reconciliation, and forgiveness.

We are tempted to define who we are based on what we do, but in reality, we should base what we do on who we are. When we define ourselves by what we do, our significance is summed up in our accomplishments. The fewer, or more insignificant, our accomplishments, the less we feel loved and accepted. But when we acknowledge that God’s infinite love for us can never be diminished, whether qualitatively or quantitatively, we are free to act without seeking the approval of others. There is no better place to go than Romans 8 to see this truth.

Now, from where do you get your identity?

Apocalyptic Hope

6 Jan

For the past 7 months, I have been going through what is hands down the most difficult time of my life. In every possible way, and in every possible area, I have been continually stretched beyond what I thought were my maximum capacities. Emotionally exhausted. Relationally strung out. Spiritually dry. Physically…well, let’s just say that each of the previous categories takes its toll on my physical health as well (it’s been awhile since my days as an adonis on the university swim team). Anyway, it feels as if God keeps pushing me deeper into the desert, and telling me to leave my canteen behind, at a time when I am most thirsty.

St. John Writing the Book of Revelation

In one of my seminary textbooks that dealt with the subject of genre in biblical interpretation, there was an interesting chapter on Apocalyptic literature. Basically, apocalyptic stories in the Bible are the ones that read more like a sci-fi movie script than what we would normally expect from the Bible. John’s Revelation would be the most easily recognizable apocalyptic book. But, with all of its crazy images and vivid descriptions of weird beasts, apocalyptic literature communicates a fundamental message–hope. And in particular, hope when it is most needed, when it seems as if God has abandoned His people.

My textbook put it this way, “Apocalyptic addresses a serious crisis of faith. If God is truly in control, why has he allowed things to get so bad here on this earth? In reply, apocalyptic proclaims that God has not turned his back on the world but will radically and unexpectedly intervene and introduce a universal solution that will solve all problems.” God comforts those in the most dire of circumstances not by promising to alleviate their present suffering, but by calling them to remember His certain future victory over their circumstances. Those suffering may feel overwhelmed, but they will not be overcome. God’s good purposes will not be thwarted.

Perhaps God’s purpose in communicating to us through apocalyptic writing is to cut through all the emotion of suffering and get right to our hearts. There is something about the style of the message that renders it more palpable to the one enduring suffering, as opposed to a simple appeal to logic.. Right now, it’s not very likely that a treatise on the sovereignty of God would convince me to rest in that sovereignty. In fact, when I didn’t know if my unborn baby girl would live or die, I was definitely not comforted by a friend’s words: “Remember that God knows whether or not He will let your daughter live.” I was infuriated by his lack of sensitivity to the situation. God knows our frailty, and communicates accordingly. He doesn’t defend His permission of evil in the present, or describe in detail the intricacy of His secret and sovereign will over all situations, including our hardships. Instead, He reminds us to look at the big picture and see that He will prevail over the greatest evils and suffering. It is certain, we just don’t know the timing.

Just as God doesn’t justify His letting us suffer, but uses apocalyptic literature to pierce through our emotions and communicate hope to our hearts, so I have been encouraged by songs that speak in the same fashion. William Cowper’s ‘God Moves in a Mysterious Way’ on the Indelible Grace VI album. Josh Garrels‘ songs ‘Rise’ and ‘Revelator’ remind me of this truth. As well as Ben Shive‘s ‘Rise Up’. These songs move me to look beyond my hardship, and to find hope in God’s sure victory over all evil and suffering in this world, even my own. God, through using a specific genre of literature, is drawing us out of ourselves and our own narrative, in order to re-center ourselves on His narrative.

This isn’t any different from the explicit teaching of the New Testament, either. Artists don’t have a corner on truth or expressing hope. The early church waited for Christ’s return, their blessed hope. Paul wrote to Titus, giving instruction on how to live in this present age with all its sin and suffering, saying that salvation frees us to live godly lives, “waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.” (Titus 2:13) Peter wrote to churches dispersed throughout what is now Turkey, saying, “therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” (1 Peter 1:13)

Our hope is a hope for the present, but not as a hope for rescue from our current circumstances. Rather, it is a hope of a future that is so certain, and so glorious, that it gives us the strength to endure our present suffering. When in distress, God calls us, through apocalyptic literature, to put our hope in the certain justice that will be realized at Christ’s second coming. When He comes, every tear will be dried, every wrong will be made right, and every heart and body will be healed. That is our hope. It gives us assurance for our future, while at the same time inviting us to cry out “how long, o Lord?”

This apocalyptic hope creates contentment in present suffering, assurance of future vindication or healing, and a longing for the fulfillment of that promise.

Honest to God

1 Jan

I am ungodly. And I am the worst kind of ungodly, because you would never know it.

In his book, Respectable Sins (which I highly recommend), Jerry bridges defines ungodliness as, “living one’s everyday life with little or no thought of God, or of God’s will, or of God’s glory, or of one’s dependence on God.” (p. 54) Perhaps that is a surprising distinction for some of us. We tend to view ungodliness as equivalent to wickedness, or just sin in general. It’s yet another of those Bible words that is a bit vague, the meaning of which we never take the time to explore. Kind of like all the different words for ‘sin’ in the Bible. You know, words like ‘transgression’, ‘iniquity’, and ‘wickedness.’ If we are honest, we have all heard sermons that focus on how the hebrew word used in a particular verse is very specific and means “<insert exact definition here>”. But when we come across the various words for sin in our Bible reading, we read them as ‘sin’. Or, maybe more accurately, ‘bad’.

Our flesh loves to take advantage of these ambiguities. Why? Somehow, mustering up all the spiritual ingenuity we can, we convince ourselves that these words don’t apply to us. Sure, we are willing to admit (or for the sake of making ourselves sound more holy, ‘confess’) that we are sinners, but we are often unwilling to look in the mirror, point our finger at ourselves, and call ourselves “<insert vague Bible word here>”. Ungodliness is a good example.

For a Christian, reading the word ‘ungodliness’ seems like it is antithetical to who we are. And it is, or at least, should be. No person who believes in Jesus wants to recognize their personal contribution to the ‘un-‘ in that word. After all Jesus did for us, could we still be ungodly? Wouldn’t we be ungrateful? Wouldn’t that make God  angry with us, or at the least, disappointed? Bridges has done Christians a huge services by defining for us the word, ‘ungodliness’, and opening our eyes to its prevalence in our daily lives.

We are all, to some degree or another, ungodly. We go about our days without giving a thought to God’s glory, will, or our dependence on Him for everything. And here is where I am probably most guilty. If you spent time with me, you would never know the depths of my ungodliness. I can talk about Christian topics, or Bible verses, while completely disconnected from my Savior. You wouldn’t be able to tell. I have had a rough go of it in the past year, and I am coming to realize that I’ve become a bit numb in every aspect of my life. My current condition could well be described as ungodly. Though I get up early to read and have a devotional time, I go about my day at work with little or no thought of God. I am the worst kind of ungodly. But what is the answer?

My method has been to be honest with God. I can’t fabricate a false intimacy. I won’t fake it, but I long for it. So, I tell Him exactly that. I ask the Lord to help me glean something from His word everyday that would stay in my mind. Something to chew on throughout the day. And you would think that it would be easy since I have the most boring job in the world and spend hours and hours alone every day locked up in a room. But I’m a daydreamer, and my mind wanders easily. My cat’s breath smells like cat food. Sorry. Back to the point. Anyway, we have to be honest with God, and little by little, He will help us to be more God-centered. At least, that is my hope. His faithfulness to His promises is my only hope. I can’t imagine that the God who says–“If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:31-32)–would ever want to keep me at arm’s length.

So, even though I am ungodly, I’m confident that it is in the best interest of God’s glory and my happiness that I fight against my ungodliness and seek to think of Him fondly and often throughout my day. But for now, I’m honestly asking Him to help me in my quest for godliness. Not just an external, behavioral, godliness, but an internal, relational godliness.

A biblical godliness.

My name is Mike Gorski, I’m 31 years old, I’m in charge of teaching people how to grow in godliness, and I’m ungodly. I invite you to walk with me in asking God to help us in our fight against ungodliness.


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